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Tuck Season, Wabbit Season, Tuck Season!
Part 12
-*-
Copyright 1999, 2010 by either Joel Lawrence or Ellen Hayes
Any resemblance between the writings in this work, and any actual
persons or places, living or dead, are purely coincidental, except when
used for satirical purposes.
This work contains adult situations, adult language, adult concepts, and
possibly sex. If you are legally not allowed to read materials
containing such things, then you will be breaking the law by reading
this. I am not responsible.
Continuing to read this document, or storing it or reproducing it
in any format means that you explicitly affirm that you are legally
allowed to possess and read such materials in your city, county/parish,
state, and country.
All rights reserved. See the bottom for distribution rights.
***
Tucker had obviously miscalculated the sun's path, because it was
barely nine o'clock and yet the sun was full on him, starting to roast
him in his own juices. He got out of the broiler bag as quickly as he
could manage without ripping it up - except he mangled the stupid bag
anyway, so it was definitely a 'garbage' bag now - and then he could
move into the shade.
*At least my gear was over here... and I ate the pizza earlier. I
think a Dew would go well...*
The ice was gone but the Dews were still wet and cool. He opened
one, and then sat down...
And then the dream came back to him full force.
*I was dressed like Valerie, IN FRONT OF MY PARENTS, even BRIAN,
and they weren't doing anything- hell, if anything, they looked pleased
about me looking like that.* Though a lot of the 'pleased' was Debbie.
*And I TOLD them I was Valerie, and... no, wait, I told Brian, and they
just kind of nodded, like they already KNEW that name; and they sure
didn't look surprised to find me in a dress.* He'd had those dreams,
about his parents catching him in girl's clothing, months before, and
they hadn't gone well.
*REM sleep just sucks,* he decided.
John woke up in a panic as the alarm scared him awake. *God I hate
that thing...*
*Why was I- Why does my tongue hurt?* It felt like he'd bitten-
*Oh my god!*
Obviously, Tucker realized, his parents had sent him here under
false pretenses, to get him used to being a girl, because they KNEW
something about those medical tests he'd had and they hadn't told HIM.
Though at this point, he had a pretty good guess.
*Damnit, that makes too much sense... Though why would they toss
me in here without telling me-
*Dude,* he realized, *this is just like one of Dad's survival
tests. Shows how you can handle yourself under stress and shit, and
that along with the girl stuff... so they lie to me to get me to go, and
then send me to- to 'boot camp with fake tits',* he remembered from last
night. *'Cause if I could handle all this crap, I ought to be able to
handle being a girl or whatever, and whatever else kind of crap the
world and school and stuff could throw at me.*
That made altogether too much sense, if you'd lived under Tucker's
dad. Which Tucker had.
*That son of a bitch...*
John dialed one more time, his fingers practically doing the job
themselves by now, and it rang, and rang, and rang, and then FINALLY
someone picked up with a worried-sounding, "Thompson resi-"
"It's Joan," he said frantically. "I just got a call- I mean, I
got a call this morning..."
*Oh,* Tucker remembered, *and if I get through this, I get a
Libretto with all the trimmings.*
*Oh shit.* And he'd just tossed that.
*Maybe...*
This definitely required some thought.
"Drugged?" Jane repeated.
"She mentioned it a number of times, Aunt Jane," Joan emphasized.
"I think that had her really scared. Like she thought it would happen
again and she wouldn't wake up the second time."
"If she thought... But why would she think something like that?"
"She mentioned Jeffrey Dahmer, and-"
"THAT is who she compared me to?!" Jane protested vehemently, as
the others in the room erupted in shock and dismay.
"Don't yell at me, please, and don't interrupt," Joan said primly.
"I'm sorry," Jane said reflexively, still trying to comprehend-
"Well, you said you wanted the new kids scared, Aunt Jane, when
they got there. I think you scared this one too much."
"Dear God," Art murmured.
And, Tucker knew from previous tests and exercises, if he called
and whined about this one, or aborted, he'd flunk, and he'd have to do
it again.
*Still,* Tucker argued, *this crap was WAY out of bounds. Even if
Dad was running this as an exercise, this is just... I mean... just WAY
too far. Jane must've gone apeshit or 'accidentally forgotten'
something, 'cause Dad would never have let me think I'd be sold to porn
slavers. He KNOWS I'd kill them first.
*So I've got that as a bargaining point. If they know Dad, or MOM,
they'd rather not have either of MY parents find out what they've been
doing, or have my side presented.* Tucker figured he had a good enough
case to get the lot of them arrested for child abuse at least, and
investigated for child porn and other things, which would definitely
ruin everyone's lives for several years and possibly force them to move
out of Northeast America entirely. *Especially if the media, like via
Trish's mom, gets hold of this. So they DON'T want me to blab.
*What the fuck was Jane THINKING? Or does she hate men that much?
That's gotta be part of it,* Tucker realized. *Oh, jeez, and if MOM
mentioned a few things I've done...* Luckily, Mom only knew about a few
of the things he'd done, though none of them had resulted in an arrest
or anything like that. *But even the stuff she knows about, if she told
Jane the man-hater about 'em, she'd be all over my case, like I was the
distilled essence of masculine evil or something like that. And she WAS
all over my case...*
*But what if Jane called my parents already?*
"Fuck," he accidentally said out loud, startling himself into a
secondary, "Ah!" *Goddamnit don't DO that!*
"Miz Thompson," Charlie said gently, trying to finesse the
inevitable explosion so it wouldn't be directed at HIM, "we've heard
about stuff like this, or at least some of it, in school and st-"
"In SCHOOL?!" Jane almost shrieked, and then had a coughing fit.
Grateful for the coughing fit, Charlie waited until she finished
before reciting, "'Don't go anywhere with a stranger, don't accept gifts
or loans from adults you don't know, don't go anywhere alone, NEVER
accept food or drink from someone you don't know'..."
Jane gasped, "But how could she think..."
Which was why Charlie had voluntarily donned one of the youngest
dresses in his closet, and done his morning makeup and hair to match.
He grabbed the edges of the skimpy skirt and pulled them outwards while
dipping his head, then looked back up at her. "You made her dress like
this, Miz Thompson," he said in the highest, girliest voice he could
manage.
Astral rlogins with Mike and Debbie - or, Tucker was forced to
admit, the combination of fatigue, partial but insufficient REM sleep,
caffeine, starvation, stress, sunlight, and familiarity with the two of
them - had given him some part of an idea.
Very unfortunately, he'd need Pauline to make it work.
And he couldn't talk to her from up here.
Also he needed fresh clothing and new coats of sunblock and makeup.
But he could do those. He could do them up here, in fact; especially
since he had a signal mirror in his social work gear, and a bunch of
expensive new clothes from Wal-Mart yesterday.
"Hello?"
"Pauline? This is Valerie again... would you like to get lunch
again? I could REALLY use a couple of rides today."
Pauline sighed. "Lemme think about it."
"I could do dinner, too..."
"You think it would take that long?" Pauline caught.
"Um... I hope not, but it might," she admitted.
"Um... I need- Can I call you back?"
"I can call you in, like, half an hour. Would that be enough
time?"
"Um, yeah," Pauline admitted, surprised that Valerie was actually
going to give her time to think. Trish never did.
"Okay, so, ten-thirty, right?"
Pauline was forced to look for a clock. "Um, yeah."
"Okay bye."
Tucker checked the note he'd made for the L.A. outdial he'd need
next. "Bet that ice melted by now... and if it didn't, no problem, I
save a quarter. Oh wait..." He had to hook up the earphone-output-to-
phone-microphone-input first.
"510 area code? Where is that?" Darryl asked.
"Berkeley, I think," Charlene answered offhandedly, then looked
startled.
"Answer it!" Jane hissed.
"I'm going to!" he protested, though he didn't want to. Sighing to
himself, he set the phone on speaker before he picked up the handset and
said, "Thompson residence, this is Darla."
This time Valerie played two guitar riffs and a couple of vocalists
squalling, "You got another thing comin'!" before she hung up.
"Judas Priest?" Charlene yelped.
"Charlene! Blasphemy-"
"It's the name of the BAND!" Charlene complained back.
"No, I just kinda want to get away from Trish for a while," Pauline
said. It wasn't quite a lie.
Mom sighed and glared at her, but she wasn't saying 'no' yet, which
was a pretty good sign.
"Wow, I love the beach," Tucker decided. Out of all the places he
could walk to, the beach was probably the best, at least for normal
times. *Though I wonder, do runaways show up at beaches a lot?* He
hoped not. Also, by being at the beach while the entire world was also
there - or so it seemed, though the other parking lot across the street
wasn't full yet - he was making it harder to pick him out of the crowd.
*Now if I can just find a pay phone, and call Pauline... Or...
no,* he decided, *I'm sort of running low on sound clips. Better save
what I have for later.*
*Why don't you try some planning, fuckwit?* Mike complained.
"Oh, yeah, good point," Tucker agreed.
"Hello?" Pauline answered.
"Pauline? It's Valerie."
*Wow, right on time,* she thought, checking the clock; ten-thirty
on the dot.
"So, um, is it okay?" Valerie asked.
"Yeah. But you said like lunch AND dinner, right?"
She complained, "Oh man!" Before Pauline could say anything,
Valerie sighed and said, "Yeah, okay, if it takes that long. And
definitely lunch."
"Okay, so, where are you?"
"Not the place we went yesterday... Um, it's called 'Scarborough
State Beach', I-"
"Oh yeah, I know it," Pauline nodded.
"Okay, so I'm like- I mean, I can see the parking lot, so just pull
in and go kinda slow, okay? Past the buildings, on the beach side."
"Okay, see you," Pauline smiled.
"Wait! About how long?" Valerie asked.
"Oh, uh... about... fifteen or twenty minutes?" That was a guess,
and sort of depended on whether she could escape The Tard.
"Okay, no problem. See you in twenty minutes!"
"Okay bye!"
"So she's got to know where a mall and stuff are," Tucker said to
himself. "So, like, no problem!" he smirked in a very Amanda sort of
way, like he'd been talking to Pauline.
"Except, what the hell do I tell Mike?" *Oh, damnit.* That was
going to be tricky.
"Well," Charlie said, "may I fix something for myself?"
Darla looked at him weird and replied in her cultured voice, "Well,
yes, of course," like he was an idiot for asking.
"Thank you," Charlie said, out of Jane-induced habit, and went to
the kitchen. He wished Valerie would stop calling from wherever she
was, because it was making everyone crazier.
"Hey," someone said to Tucker.
He looked up, and there was a younger male smiling at him, so of
course Tucker stood up, rubbed his elbows against his body to check for
knives, and visually looked for the real assailants. *Wish I hadn't
shifted my gear into Civ mode-*
"You new in town?" the male asked, still smiling, but not using the
voice tones males usually used on males when they were getting ready to
be assholes.
*Why is he sound- Oh, right, I'm a girl,* Tucker remembered. "Um,
yeah," he admitted, and then remembered to smile. "I'm waiting for a
friend of mine to pick me up." He checked his primary watch, which was
now on his left wrist where it belonged. *Just five fucking minutes...
IF she's on time. Awww, MAN! I was so close!*
"Oh," the guy said. Then he smiled and said, "Boy friend or girl
friend?"
"Oh, girlfriend. Actually the sister of one of my friends," Tucker
remembered. "She's taking me to run a couple errands today."
"Oh that's cool," the guy agreed.
*I think he's sort of hitting on me,* Tucker identified, and then
he found himself wishing he'd worn more makeup so he'd look older. He'd
gone light, since trying to do a lot of eye makeup while trying to
balance a mirror on his gear hadn't worked, and holding the mirror in
one hand and using the other hadn't worked, and putting the mirror on
the surface of the roof and bending over hadn't worked, and trying to
balance it on his knees hadn't worked... he'd given up quickly, after
he'd gotten about as much as Marie had let him wear on that outing a
week ago. Though he still had some left on from yesterday, it wasn't
much.
Christian Toone thought the girl in front of him was pretty cute,
though she was pretty young judging by her figure. But she was
definitely old enough, out of the lower grades and out of the boy-hating
phase girls went through. She had dyed her hair in two colors, though,
and she was wearing more makeup than girls her age usually did, to try
and look older. And she was wearing the kind of scruffy clothing - Army
pants, a wrinkled men's long-sleeved shirt over a pink string-strapped
top, and flipflops - girls wore when they were convinced they were
good-looking already; those girls tended to like hanging with older guys
like himself. He had a girl he was dating already, but of course he was
always on the lookout for someone new.
And 'new' was always attractive. At least when they weren't college
girls; he knew it was going to take him a few years before he could chat
THEM up with any chance of success.
Trying to keep the conversation going, he asked the girl in front
of him, "So, um," and he pointed at her large duffel bag, "did you just
get here or something?"
"Wh- Oh, no. I was thinking I was going to leave today, but I
think the plans changed."
"Oh, wow. So how long do you think you'll be here?"
She shrugged. "Depends. I dunno, really; there's some kind of
negotiation going on."
"Oh. Divorced parents?" he guessed.
"Little more complicated than that," she said.
Then she didn't explain any further.
*Come ON Pauline!* Tucker did not really want to be standing here
chatting with this preschool (well, pre-high-school) Romeo, but it did
give him visual cover of a sort, and if he was going to stay, he needed
to at least avoid giving the locals like Romeo-lite reasons to hate him.
And while he only had a vague idea what sort of image he presented
today - though he knew it wasn't 'stuck up bitch trying to look
inappropriately adult' or 'stuck up bitch dressed by idiot parents', or
worse, like he'd been forced into over the last week - he was pretty
sure that standing here, talking with a relatively attractive junior-
high guy, would spoof anyone looking for him. And the guy was
relatively attractive for his age, with curly brown hair darker than
Tucker's and lighter blue eyes, and showing tanned arms and legs and
enough muscle to detect, since he was wearing a tank top and ripped jean
shorts. The kid was about his height and probably outweighed him by
twenty pounds of muscle. *Damnit.*
"So," Tucker said after the kid had apparently failed his last
Fast-Talk roll. *Thank Ghu he's not going for Sex Appeal!* "You live
around here?" he confirmed.
"Yah, over in Wakefield," he said.
*Wakefield, Wakefield...* Tucker sort of remembered that on the
map, but not quite where it was. "I know where Kingston is," Tucker
offered. "And West Kingston," he remembered, though the two weren't
really far apart.
"Yeah, it's like," and the guy turned around and pointed vaguely
off to the west.
*So's the rest of North America, bozo,* Tucker thought, which made
him smile.
Christian turned back to see the girl smiling, which was definitely
a good sign.
"So, um, could you show me on a map? I got one yesterday," she
said, and reached into one of the pockets in her pants and pulled out a
road map and began unfolding it.
"You wanna sit down," he suggested to her. "So the map doesn't fly
off!" he added, as her map tried to do just that in the wind.
"Oh, uh, yeah, that..." and then she stopped talking, dropped her
bag and sat.
Christian went around to the other side of her bag and sat down,
because he knew that the less he looked like he was chasing her, the
less he would HAVE to chase her.
Tucker glanced over and made sure his duffle was locked. *What the
hell is he doing?*
"See, we're," he said, and made a hasty grab at the map, to keep it
from getting airborne and escaping. Putting it on top of Tucker's
duffle and leaning on it with his left forearm, he leaned over and
pointed with his right index finger. "See," he restarted, "we're...
here, that's where the beach is."
Tucker said, "Uh huh?" in a higher than usual pitch, to make sure
he didn't appear too smart.
Jane wasn't too sure if her vomiting was a symptom of whatever
accursed infection she'd picked up, or if it was from pure stress. *Not
that it really makes a difference,* she reflected as she retched again.
She regretted not eating breakfast; it would be easier if she had
something in her stomach to purge, because purging she was apparently
going to be, for a while.
"Well, there she is, I think," Tucker said to himself as Pauline-
presumed pulled into the parking lot. *Plate issssssss MATCH!* he
thought when he could finally see the front license plate. He stood up,
taking the map with him, and waved at her.
"That's your ride?"
"Oh, yeah," Tucker admitted, wishing for a moment the guy hadn't
seen Pauline and her minivan, so he couldn't describe it later. *Get
OVER it,* he told himself as he folded the map back up and slipped it
into his thigh pocket.
Movement startled him, and when he saw the guy lifting the duffle
Tucker almost went for a knife, but a lockup due to awareness of the
immense number of potential witnesses gave the guy time to start hauling
the bag towards Pauline. *Okay, don't kill him unless he tries to take
off,* Tucker told himself as he hurried after his gear.
"Wow, what is in here?" the guy wanted to know as he heaved along.
"Oh, lots of bricks," Tucker said in an airhead voice.
"What?"
"I can carry it if you..." Tucker knew that insinuating it was
too heavy would insult the guy's masculinity, thus making it impossible
to get his bag back, but he couldn't think of another way to say it.
"No, it's okay," the guy said. *Of course,* Tucker confirmed
sourly.
The side door flew open and Trish signed, Tucker signed back.
"That's your friend?" the guy asked, sounding surprised.
Unpleasantly surprised.
"Yeah?" Tucker replied. He didn't miss Trish looking at the guy,
recognizing him, and not being happy about it. "Thanks for carrying my
stuff!" he chirped happily at the guy, and took the straps before the
guy could get some sort of clever idea. "I'll see ya around maybe," he
added as a closing line as he threw his bag in, just missing Trish who
dodged back in her seat, then climbed in himself. "Thanks for keeping
me company, bye!" he said, and smiled as he shut the door and then
waved.
Pauline started off as Trish grabbed his arm and started saying
nasty things.
"Yeah yeah yeah. SEAT BELT," he said slowly and broadly to Trish's
face, because he was using both his hands to try and find one to put on.
"What..." *It couldn't be,* Lisa thought.
"It's a pregnancy simulator," the woman said, half proudly.
Lisa tuned out her explanation of why she had such a thing and why
they were selling it at a garage sale, which sounded bogus to her
anyway. When the woman got to a stopping point, Lisa asked, "How much?"
It was brimming with potential.
*Where the fuck can I get some more money?* Tucker desperately
wanted to know. He was running critically low. *Maybe I can extort
some from Jane? No, then Mom'd make me pay it back. Fine?* His
parents fined him for all sorts of crimes; maybe he could... *No, JUST
like with my parents, they'd demand they get the money, and I MIGHT get
some tiny percentage of it eventually. But probably not. Damnit...*
Trish seemed just as happy to be eating up his savings as Pauline
was.
he signed back. He felt sick. And poor.
"Poor Marie, she still feels sick herself," Darryl reported. "And
we're running out of cough syrup."
"Well, I guess I can go into town and get some," Art said,
frowning.
"Oh, and..." He wasn't sure what Momma-Jane was taking, though he
wasn't entirely sure if she could get anything out of the drugs if she
didn't digest them. "Well. I think I need to make a list. Or I could
go?"
"Well, one of us has to stay here," Art reminded him while looking
up toward Jane's bedroom.
Darryl sighed, and thought about it. "Why don't," he finally said,
"I stay? Let me make a list... Can you go to the grocery store too?"
Tucker wound up the mix of truth, deductions, guesses, and lies
with, they both signed at him.
he signed back, with a sigh.
Trish made a lot of violent moves, apparently happy about it; her
hands were incoherent.
Pauline was a lot less happy about it, even after she punched
Trish's shoulder and moved herself and her food sideways, away from the
happy-spazzing Trish. "So, like, all summer?"
Tucker replied.
Trish ordered.
Tucker signed at her.
"So, like, what do you need me for?" Pauline asked.
Tucker shook his head. Or worse, but he
wasn't going to tell them that. Trish enthused.
Tucker was less enthused that she'd caught it exactly, but he
couldn't really think of a way to tell her 'no'. Not and be believed.
"Dude, I don't KNOW what the little shit is doing," Mike complained
back to Dan.
"You think he got recaptured, maybe?"
"Maybe..." Mike was forced to admit. *That WOULD explain the weird
dreams last night.* "But I dunno. It hasn't been that long, so we
don't do anything yet."
Dan sighed, then looked at the floor.
"More operations are ruined by impatience than anything else," Mike
reminded him, and blocked the punch. "Ha!" And blocked the kick.
"Lamer roundeye!"
Tucker sighed and gave Pauline the $11. *With any luck...*
Without luck, he'd have to rely on Mike and Dan, and possibly some of
the girls, to extract the $11 plus interest out of Pauline's flesh.
"So I drop you two off?" Pauline confirmed.
"Yeah, and then what you do, is..." He had to check the cheat
sheet.
"Why don't you let me have that?" Pauline asked.
"Because, if y- It's not secure," he said instead. He didn't want
Pauline to be thinking of things like 'capture' or 'interrogation' or
'arrest'. Or 'torture'. He wouldn't mind not thinking about them
himself, but that wasn't gonna happen; Mike had trained him too well,
building on Dad's proactive paranoia, and he couldn't stop.
*I hope Diana gets ice cream,* Charlie realized, WAY too late.
*EVERYONE likes ice cream when they're sick, though.* Except, probably
Jane; she didn't do anything else normally, so she probably wouldn't get
sick normally either.
"Oh," Darla said, "I forgot to thank you for helping with the
meals, yesterday and today. You've been a real help, and nobody needed
to tell y-"
The phone rang, and both Charlie and Darla looked at it.
It rang again.
"Could you PLEASE get that?" Darla asked. "If I answer again, I
might..."
It rang a third time, as Darla left in a hurry, muttering something
about Jane.
Charlie sighed, but managed to get it just before the answering
machine got it, cutting the fourth ring in half. "Thompson residence
this is Charlene?" he said, fairly certain that was how Darla did it.
"Charlene! Since when did they let you answer the phone?"
"Valerie?!" he spluttered, but quietly.
"Yah. Listen, I called Joan like you said, and I've been thinking,
and I think I could come back, if I can set some ground rules that Jane
would stick to."
Charlie gasped, "Rules? YOU want to set rules for JANE?"
"Look," Tucker snapped angrily, "if I come back, it'd have to be
on MY terms. I can't put up with this bullshit she's been doing, and
I'm not gonna be treated like a prisoner. She treated me like a
prisoner, I escaped, right?" He was a little proud of that, actually;
like Dad always had said, if you train right, the real thing left you
going 'What? That's IT? Where's the hard parts?'
Though Dad likely hadn't meant that to apply to summer camps.
"So," he continued, "if she wants me back, she's gonna have to
agree to treat me like a human being, with rights and things."
There was a pause.
Charlene said finally, "Oh boy."
"Yeah, I dunno if she'll go for it," Tucker admitted. "You think
there's a chance?"
Charlie thought it was about 50/50. On the one hand, Jane had been
severely stressed out about it, and having Valerie come back would sort
of end the crisis, and without any damage. On the other, she HATED it
when someone defied her, and Valerie had not only done that but run off
and then rubbed her face in it for over a day.
"Oh boy," he said again. "I don't know, I really don't." Then he
remembered that Valerie hadn't been here the last couple of days. "Oh,
and after you left? She got sick, and maybe gave it to Marie too,
so..."
"Oh great," Valerie said, but she didn't sound sincere. "So you're
sort of on your own there?"
"No..." Charlie admitted.
"Momma-Jane?"
Jane opened her eyes. "Oh, Darla," she sighed, as she closed them
again.
"Is there anything I can do? Diana's gone out to the pharmacy and
the store..."
"How is Marie?" Jane didn't like the way she sounded; her
carefully cultivated voice sounded like someone had taken a file to it.
"She's not as bad off as you," Darla said candidly, "but at least I
didn't have to tie her to the bed to get her to rest."
"Good," Jane said. *Rest would be good...*
"Huh," Tucker said. *Well, it kind of figures, I guess; she had to
be a pervert somehow to dress me up like that, so I guess it makes sense
that she'd be a closet lesbian.*
*Jeez, what would the daughter be like?*
"How much does she actually hate..." That was not something he
actually wanted to say out loud around at least one lip reader, like he
was sure Trish was. "Um. I mean, that's a lot of women in that house;
does Jane have something against men?"
*Oh hell.* This wasn't something Charlie really wanted to explain,
especially since Darla and Diana had explained why they weren't
appearing as males, when Joan had left. "Um, no," he said cautiously.
"Oh, remember that guy that came over? Robert something?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, she didn't hate him, right?"
"I don't THINK so, but does she? You know her better than I do."
That was arguable. "I don't think she does, it's just, y'know,
like I said. Or like Joan said," he remembered. "Oh, I'm still...
Your twelve hours," he mentioned.
"Oh, thanks," she said. "That really is a help... except I may end
up busting it. Not your fault, and I'll try and keep you out of it,"
she said, which made Charlie depressed when he thought about how little
chance there was about keeping his silence quiet. So to speak.
"So," she said, "can Jane negotiate? Or what?"
"I think you'd better do that with Darla," Charlie replied. "She's
the only one here besides me who isn't sick. I dunno if she'll do it, I
mean agree to do it; she might not-"
"Might not what?" Darla asked, making Charlie twitch. "Who's on
the phone?"
"Is that her?" Valerie asked.
Charlie said, "Hold on," to Darla while shaking a hand at her to
indicate he was busy, and "Yes, that's her," to Valerie.
"Let me try her," Valerie commanded. "Wait! Go put on the clothes
you were wearing Friday."
"What? Why?"
"Trust me, okay? Have I done it wrong yet?"
*Well, no...* "Darla? I- She wants to talk to you," Charlie
said as he pulled the phone away from his ear and offered it to Darla.
"She who?" Darla asked as she came forward.
As she took the phone, Charlie answered, "Valerie." Then left to
go change.
"Valerie?" Tucker heard, and it sounded like the person who'd been
answering the phone lately.
"Yeah, hey, s'up?" he said, reverting to a Brooklyn accent for some
reason. Probably because he was feeling like an asshole, come to think
of it.
"What's UP? You're asking me what's UP?!"
*Uh oh. She sounds like my mom about to explode. Jane actually
might be better to negotiate with...* "Yeah, hey, just wondered how you
kids was doin' back dere," he said to keep her occupied.
She actually choked, not getting any words out. *Maybe NOT a good
idea,* he realized too late.
*Maybe I can use this... if she's that angry, she's not thinking
clearly... Mike! Help me!*
Mike helped.
"Are you Darla?" The accent had disappeared entirely.
"Yes," Darryl got out.
"Listen closely. I am free and clear, and you will never catch me
on your own. I could be anywhere in the world by now." None of this
was new to Darryl, and he wondered why 'Valerie' was stating it now. "I
am POSSIBLY willing to return to Jane's house, under certain specific
conditions."
Darryl had to sit down when he said that.
"You have sixty, six-zero, minutes starting from," Tucker looked at
his watch, then set the countdown timer going. "Now. You must be at
the bank of pay phones at the lower floor of Rhode Island Mall in sixty
minutes."
"Sixty minutes! There's no WAY I can make that-"
Tucker interrupted, "You can if you hurry." The reason to make her
hurry was, of course, to keep her from making 'alternate arrangements'
with cops, slavers, friends, street gangs, the FBI, the KGB, and any
possible alien or magical threat groups.
"You will receive further instructions at that place and time.
The bank of pay phones on the lower level of Rhode Island Mall, in six
zero minutes. Don't be late," Tucker said and hung up.
he signaled Trish, and she took off running. *Oh,
great, just what I need...*
*Hey, maybe if I don't run after her, she'll stop.*
*Maybe she'll stop BEFORE she runs in front of a truck...*
*Yeah, but me running after her won't help that,* he argued.
And, by now she was slowing down and looking behind herself.
*Yeah, bitch!*
Then she tripped.
Her sister commented, "You 'tard," and Tucker had to agree.
"We don't have any time!" Darryl hissed as he grabbed Charlene's
arm and pulled her towards the door.
He was glad as hell that he'd done Darla this morning, though he
really hadn't been thinking when he did it. And he was also thankful
that Charlene had basically gone upstairs and done the same thing.
Though she'd changed into a dressier outfit while he was on the phone,
for some reason. *Maybe she's still not comfortable going out...*
Tucker had just finished taping up Trish's skinned knee, which
looked kind of stupid but he didn't feel like contaminating his Ace
bandage with whatever might bleed through or around the Kotex - and he
had a feeling that pulling out a Kotex would get him abused and possibly
abandoned - and stood up, before he had a blast of inspiratons punch him
in the face.
Instead of trying to explain, he turned her around and pushed her
towards the store window that was displaying rollerblades, complete with
helmets, athletic wear, and elbow and knee pads.
"Hey! Shop later!" Pauline bitched as she slapped Trish in the
shoulder.
Tucker sighed, as Trish turned around again and started to argue.
*Okay, she's got a point...*
"Hello?" Art called in his Diana voice. *Where are they?*
*Could Charlene have disappeared?* he wondered uncontrollably.
*Oh, that would be JUST what we need...*
Tucker signed at both of them, and dialed seven 2's.
When the system answered the call and started reciting numbers at
him starting with "four-zero-one," he accidentally pumped his fist and
lost his pen. *Fuckit.* But Trish came up with it and handed it to
him. He nodded and smiled at her as he started writing the number down.
When he'd gotten it, he gave it to Pauline, and started to review
what she was supposed to do, but she took the number and walked off like
Tucker had pissed her off. Trish signed.
*Jeez I hope not...*
*God, this is boring,* Pauline sighed. Even with the ten dollars
Valerie had given her, she was starting to regret agreeing to playing
this for her. Though she'd already spent half of the ten.
She had to watch everyone going towards the pay phones, and then
call - using the four quarters Valerie had also given her - the number
Valerie had given her at the other mall, and make it sound like
something else; she even had some codewords Valerie had made her
memorize. Then Pauline would leave, and one of the two girls who were
SUPPOSED to show up would answer the phone when Valerie called it. If
the phone call didn't work she was supposed to deliver them a note. Or
get it delivered.
Tucker signed, as he hooked the acoustic
coupler to the pay phone.
Predictably, Trish signed back, he signed.
Tucker signed back with a sigh.
"NO!" He had to work to remember how to sign that rather than just
punching her.
Mike was explaining to Kim, "No, we haven't heard anything el-"
when his computer screamed, "INCOMMIINNNGGGGGGG!"
Mike dropped to the floor to hit the shut-up switch Tucker had
installed on the bottom of his computer hutch specifically to make sure
that Mike would fling himself to the ground when his computer screamed
'INCOMING' at him whenever it got that command or whatever it was that
Tucker did. Mike wished he was good enough to excise that part, but he
hadn't figured it out yet; partially because he had to throw himself on
the floor to shut it up before it set his parents off, and therefore he
could never do anything before the trigger erased itself or whatever.
Tucker could be a right little shit when he put his mind to it.
*Just like his dad,* Mike thought, not for the first time.
"What the hell was that?!" Kim shrieked.
Mike looked over his shoulder to discover that Kim had also hit the
deck. "Good reflexes," he commented; he immediately realized this had
been an unwise comment when she kicked the shit out of his leg and
started screeching at him.
*Damnit I hate no commo!* Tucker thought. With Mike, and the gear
all of them had, he'd have had radio communications, even if they had to
stick Dan someplace to carry a repeater.
Without that, he just had to HOPE that Pauline was going to do what
she'd promised she'd do, AND hope that Darla - he thought that's what
her name was - Janesdottir would show up when she was supposed to, AND
where, AND that she wouldn't have time to call in Jane's allies. AND
that all the phones worked like they were supposed to.
Plus, Mike wouldn't have tried to do this with only two other
people, one of them deaf, only one transport, no pre-strike recon, and
no commo. Pay phones did NOT count.
"You WHAT?!" Mike screamed, apparently at his computer, and Kim had
a sudden urgent desire to go look at whatever had made-
"You F- IDIOT!!"
*Must be Tuck,* she guessed. *But what did he do?*
*Boy, someone's in a hurry,* Pauline thought as the insistent tap-
taptaptaptap of someone power-walking in heels resonated through the
hallway. *Maybe that's-*
THAT wasn't her, but the girl behind the noisy one was wearing what
Valerie had described, and looked like Valerie's verbal portrait. Kind
of. Vaguely.
*Then again, she wasn't that good at descriptions either.*
Pauline put her new book away, then got up.
"Maybe she'll meet us," Charlie suggested, after they'd gotten to
the mall and then charged around desperately looking for the phones. By
Charlie's estimate, they'd made it with under five minutes to spare,
maybe. But nothing had happened since then, and Charlie was starting to
feel a little foolish.
"If she doesn't," Darla said, then trailed off, as she turned
around in a slow circle, apparently looking for Valerie again.
There were four phones there, with some guy draped over one and
talking into the phone like he had some kind of big secret to tell the
other end, and a dark-haired girl with glasses, who was definitely not
Valerie, who had just come up and started to use another one.
The phone rang over Tucker's head, scaring him into a yelp. Trish
didn't hear it, being deaf, so she didn't give him shit over his being
scared; it was everyone else around the place that was staring at him.
*Fuck a shit goddamn,* he sighed as he signed, to Trish.
She pulled the Kensington board back, giving him room to stand up
and turn and answer the phone. "Hello?"
"Hi, Debbie?" Pauline asked.
*YES!*
"It's past three o'clock, and, um, the two books you wanted are
here. Well, I mean, I saw one of them, the one you said what sh- it
looked like, and there's another one right, uh, there. With it. The
first one."
Tucker sighed in relief, because if Charlene, whom he'd described
to both Pauline and Trish, was there, then probably Darla was too. Plus
Pauline hadn't screwed up the little jargon code he'd told her to use if
Darla and Charlene were around the phones. "Anyone else with her? That
you could tell? Like a third person or anything like that," he amended.
"No, just, uh, those two books," Pauline answered, meaning 'two
people'.
"Okay, great! One more call if you can, right?"
"Right."
"Out clear," Tucker said and hung up.
*What the hell did that mean?* Pauline wondered as she hung back up
and left the phone area. She had to keep it (and them) in sight, but
not too obviously, until they came out, and then call again. If they
never came out, Valerie would leave Trish at the mall, and Pauline was
supposed to pick her up at four-thirty.
*Though, if I didn't take The Tard home, I could just claim she ran
away...*
The phone ringing scared both of them into making noises, though
Darryl thought Charlene's sounded kind of masculine.
It rang again.
"Maybe that's her?" Charlene suggested.
Darryl sighed, thinking this was all some kind of sick prank, but
picked up the phone. "Hello? This is Darla."
"This is Valerie," she said. "Very good. Pay attention, this is
part two of the instructions."
"Wait! Part tw-"
"You have fifteen minutes to make it to the phone bank in the food
court of Warwick Mall. Repeat this back to me."
"Wait, what?"
"Pay ATTENTION!" the voice on the line almost shouted at her. "You
have fifteen minutes to make it to the phone bank in the food court of
Warwick Mall. Repeat this back to me!"
"Meet you at the, the phone bank in the food court at the Warwick
Mall."
"In fifteen minutes. Repe-"
"In fifteen minutes!"
"Starting... now. Except you won't be meeting me, you'll be given
further instructions there," the voice said before it hung up.
Charlie had never guessed Darla knew those words, and she used a
few more that sounded like French, too. The French, however, sounded
elegant and classy, like Darla always looked and acted.
In less than three minutes - during which Tucker managed to lose
the Kensington match, and just managed not to agree to another one - the
phone rang again. He didn't scream this time, which he thought was an
improvement. "Hello?"
"Just two of them left," Pauline said.
"Fantastic! See you in about half an hour?"
"Yeah, I guess..."
"Ten more bucks," Tucker figuratively waved under her nose.
"Besides, with your help this'll all work out, and then I'll tell you
about it in a week or so."
"Yeah, okay," Pauline said, but Tucker thought she sounded a LITTLE
happier about it.
*Okay, that was kind of fun...* Pauline found herself thinking.
*And, man, the little one looked PISSED! And Valerie's gonna negotiate
with her? Good luck with that!* The redhead - and Pauline didn't know
if it was true, about redhead's tempers, but it seemed like it was - was
not someone Pauline would want to try to get favors from.
*Now, where the hell did I park?* Pauline was supposed to
immediately drive over to Warwick Mall, near the food court entrance,
and either go in by herself, or wait outside.
If she could remember where her stupid CAR was.
"What are you waiting for?!" Darla yelled.
Charlie was smart enough, by now, NOT to say, 'I'm waiting for us
to either die in a car accident, or for my stomach to decide if I've got
motion sickness or not.' "Okay, okay!" he couldn't stop himself from
protesting, and he managed to get out of the car without doing something
really stupid, and then he had to move quicker than he was used to doing
in these clothes just to keep up with her. *Damn she's fast... how's
she move so fast on such little legs? Must be from practice keeping up
with Jane,* because Jane was tall enough to make her normal walk a
little hard to keep up with, and if she'd ever done what Darla was doing
now, Charlie didn't think he could manage to keep up unless he ran, and
there was no way he was going to try that in the heels he usually wore.
He wasn't keeping up with Darla either, it turned out. "Hey, wait!
Or slow down a little or something," he pleaded.
Darla stopped momentarily, before she got to the mall doors, and
glared at him until he caught up, then took off like a galloping horse
again. *Never mind... maybe I can keep her in sight.*
*Oh, shit,* Tucker sighed in relief. *They showed up.* And they
were heading for the table that was near the phones and about as far
away from everyone else as existed in here, the one Tucker had hoped
would stay empty.
Valerie signed after she put the mirror down. Trish wasn't sure. And that girl seemed to be following-
Trish signed. She could tell Valerie was saying
something, but not what; though she had a pretty good guess.
Valerie signed when she got done talking to herself.
Those two headed for the pay phones, then looked around like they
expected to see someone appear. Like Valerie. Who was showing no signs
of getting up.
Valerie checked her watch. she explained. she added.
Valerie said. she signed, and just stopped.
*Then I guess they can't be trusted at all,* Trish filled in. *But
why would they bring someone else? Like her mom or something?* She
really didn't understand what was going on, and only the promise of an
explanation later had kept her from totally refusing to help without an
explanation now.
The idea of just DOING stuff like this, against an adult or two or
her parents or WHATEVER Valerie was doing, seemed exciting, until Trish
really thought about it; and then it got strangely scary. She was glad
that she didn't have to do anything, and even sort of glad that all
Pauline had had to do was make phone calls, and not apparently have
anything to do with what Valerie was doing. *I mean, it SEEMS like she
knows what she's doing, and things are going like she planned, but...
And that redhead looks so mad.* When Mom looked like that, or anywhere
CLOSE to that, even Trish knew to go to her room and do something quiet.
Not like she could tell, by herself, what was quiet; but she'd learned
what made Mom (or Dad, back when he lived with them) mad at times like
that, and was very careful not to do them.
she thought to ask Valerie.
Tucker wished he had a video camera feed, or a spotter transmitting
descriptions, or SOMETHING, because he didn't really trust Trish to
figure out anything before it happened, and he kept half-expecting that
heavy hand of Annoyed Authority on his shoulder, or a hue-and-cry; and
then he'd have a shit time of it. He hadn't really done proper recon of
the malls, either, though he hadn't had time. *Maybe I should've made
time,* he worried. *Man, Mike is gonna kill me...*
"I am gonna KILL that little shit!" Mike shouted, making Kim wince.
When it looked like he'd sort of calmed down - sort of - Kim
eventually dared to ask, "But... what's so bad about him staying there?
Wouldn't he get in trouble if he just ran off?"
"Little round-eyed fucker's in trouble NOW," Mike growled.
Kim almost said, 'No, not YOU; like with his parents or the camp
or, y'know, ADULTS,' but managed not to. *Oh man, if he's mad NOW...*
"Maybe we should wait near here?" Charlie suggested. As Darla
turned on him, he thought to add, "Oh, and I could get us drinks?"
Darla took a breath, then let it out, then took another. "Why
don't you," she said.
*Because I don't have any money,* Charlie wanted to say but was
afraid to.
Apparently Darla wasn't THAT crazy with rage, because after a few
seconds she made an irritated noise and started digging in her purse,
eventually finding her huge wallet or pocketbook - Charlie still wasn't
sure what the difference was, if there was one - and coming up with a
five.
"Diet Coke?" Charlie guessed.
"Regular," Darla snarled.
*Jeez, okay, sorry!* he thought, but said, "Okay, back in a
minute," and got to turn away and escape.
Trish wasn't happy that Valerie had found something for her to do,
but at least it was with the calmer one. Who was also taller than the
redhead, and Trish wondered momentarily if the two things were related.
*No,* she realized, *my sister's taller than I am, and she's just as
crazy as that redhead.*
The blonde girl she was standing behind was also taller than Trish,
though not by much; and she was in a sweater and skirt combo that looked
like it cost about two hundred dollars, not counting the shoes or the
little pearl drop earrings or the bracelet or anything else. She was
wearing pantyhose too, for some reason. *Maybe she's trying to look
older?* Trish wondered. *Or maybe it's after church? Some people dress
up for church.*
She rubbed her hands dry on the legs of her jeans as she glanced
over at the redhead, and waited until she turned the other way and
stayed there, undoubtedly looking for Valerie. She tapped the blonde on
the arm - the one AWAY from the redhead, as Valerie had insisted - and
when she turned, Trish grabbed her hand and wrapped it around the little
note Valerie had written, the one that said 'DON'T LOOK AROUND' on it,
outside the fold.
Luckily, the blonde didn't drop it.
Trish turned back, and the redhead was still looking off in another
direction, and Valerie had her laptop open but was nodding at her.
*Oh good,* Trish thought, and flushed with relief.
DON'T LOOK AROUND
*But wh- Oh, Valerie again,* Charlie decided. He was pretty sure
the girl who had handed him the note WASN'T Valerie, but as he was
starting to turn, he thought, *What if it IS her? And she hits me?* and
decided not to.
Instead, he casually looked over towards Darla - who was obviously
still looking for Valerie - and then turned his back on her and opened
the note, trying to look like he was doing ANYTHING other than reading a
note someone had just handed him. School had taught him THAT much, at
least.
Scribbled inside the folded paper, in very hasty printing, was,
Charlie thought,
Watching you and ?Darla? for signs of treachery. Don't look for me.
If Darla can negotiate contract, binding on Jane, rub behind your
right ear. Sit and wait; you will be contacted.
Eat this note!!
*What the hell does she mean by 'treachery'?* Charlie hoped that
Valerie wasn't going to be as unreasonable as Darla had been, because
there was no way he was eating the note.
Tucker sighed internally as Charlene failed to eat the note, but he
kept a surreptitious watch on her, and was gratified to see her
delicately reach up behind her right ear and rub like she had an itch.
When he saw her toss the note into the trash, very casually indeed, he
felt even better about the whole mess.
Trish, as instructed, had gone off to another stall as if she was
tired of waiting or had changed her mind, and it looked like some food
would be coming soon. He hated having to pay for her again, but she WAS
working out well, like Pauline had, and so Tucker was obligated to
reward them, even though it sort of felt like he was pulling off his own
flesh with vice grips.
He also hoped the food would mellow him out a little; he needed to
be kind of calm and relaxed when he dealt with Darla-he-thought-that's-
what-her-name-was. *'Cause sure as hell, SHE won't be.*
*Now to get to that contract...*
*I hope Valerie likes Chinese,* Trish thought suddenly as she got
to the head of the line.
She handed the counter guy one of her 'I am a deaf person' cards,
and her order, and the guy took both, opened his mouth, actually READ
what was in his hand, shut his mouth, and went to the cash register.
*Glad this doesn't have to be a real contract,* Tucker thought; he
didn't have a boilerplate to use for this - probably because it was
insane - and he didn't want to spend a week figuring out how to
translate everything into Legalese. *Kind of like the other end of
Thieves' Cant. Or what they end up speaking at the Guildmaster level,*
he smirked.
Trish got closer and signed, and handed him a
styrofoam plate.
*Wha- Oh, right,* he remembered. Which shouldn't have taken him
this long, since he'd given her the card and pen. *Where's the pen?*
He looked up and she was just about to poke him with it, so he snatched
it before she made a crit on his eye or something.
*Lemon chicken? I should've asked for something with more fat, I
guess,* he thought, but signed, at her. Then, because
she wasn't.
she asked as she, thankfully, sat down.
Almost anything was faster than
Tucker writing legible longhand, including dictating to Mike.
*That,* Tucker unwillingly admitted, *is a very good point.*
Darryl didn't know why Charlene was so confident that Valerie would
show up; HE wasn't. And he couldn't help wondering if this whole comedy
routine was to act as some kind of bizarre distraction. *At least Diana
should be home by now,* he thought. *Wait, is she?* He'd never
checked... and there WAS a bank of pay phones right there.
*Oh, fuck,* Tucker thought as Darla-he-thought-that's-what-her-
name-was got up from their table and went to the phones. *Who the hell
is she calling? Damnit, should've killed the phones.... no, that
would've made me noticeable, even if I could've found the wires...*
*I guess I gotta let her make the call.*
"Hello?"
"It's Darla," Darryl said. "Is everything okay there?"
"Whe- Yes, we're fine here. Where are you?" Diana asked, rather
pointedly.
"I left a note!" Darryl complained.
"You didn't put much in it. Charlene's with you?"
"Yes," Darryl sighed. "Of course."
"So what happened?"
"HE called up, and said he MIGHT be willing to come back to Jane's
if I came- and brought Charlene, to a mall-"
"Wasn't he in California?"
"Maybe he came back!" Darryl almost shouted.
*She does sound pissed,* Tucker noted, *but not like she's in
control of things. Wonder who she's talking to...* He KNEW who she was
talking ABOUT.
*Damnit.* He kept getting kicked in the nuts with the fact that he
had almost no information and almost no support, in a strange area, with
rapidly dwindling funds, and all the rest. It was really depressing.
*Funds. Hmm...* He scrolled back up to the top and started
writing another clause in the contract.
"But you haven't seen him?" Art pressed.
"How the HELL should _I_ know? I've never even SEEN him!" Darla
snapped.
Which reminded Art that he had gotten the pictures Jane had taken,
before the ill-fated trip to Marisha and the new student's hair
bleaching. *Not too much help there,* he thought again.
"Alright, calm down; we can handle this. He's likely trying to
keep you off-balance, an-"
"And he's doing a FINE job of that!" Darla interrupted, but she
sounded calmer.
"I know, but you're older, smarter, and better-trained than he is,"
Art replied, deliberately using his soothing clinical voice. "You don't
have to let him upset you or disrupt your emotions."
"I know," Darla sighed. "It's just so hard..."
"I know it is, believe me. But you're a very strong person, and
you can handle this, better than he can." Which was something of a leap
of faith and hope, rather than judgment; 'Valerie' had flummoxed all of
them for three days.
*Okay, so... Fuck, I'll have to go somewhere else,* Tucker decided.
*Staying around here could be hazardous to my health. So...*
he asked Trish.
Tucker sighed, but replied, she replied.
*Damnit.*
Tucker answered.
he reminded her.
Trish insisted.
Tucker had a momentary flash of using Trish as an intermediary, but
rejected it; for one thing, he was pretty sure that none of them 'spoke'
ASL, and for another he didn't want Trish involved, especially with some
of the more outrageous elements.
he emphasized. she signed back at him.
*Wonder why she doesn't know 'printer'?*
Trish added,
*Didn't I say that?* she replied.
*Didn't she-*
she signed, and kicked him, which was
TOTALLY unfair.
"Who did you call?" Charlie asked when Darla came back to their
table.
"Diana," she said. "I wasn't sure if Valerie was trying to pull
something, to get us out of the house."
Charlie hadn't thought of that. "Oh." *But I had that note- But
I guess she could've written it earlier, and then given it to that girl.
But... I don't think so. For one thing, if she wanted to do something
to the house, she could've done it last night.*
*Jeez, she could've killed me!* he suddenly realized. *Or all of
us, I guess.* Jane's house had an alarm system, and Marie locked it up
at night. *Maybe she forgot because she was sick?* Though that didn't
seem likely.
*But if she was gonna do something like kill people, she'd have
done it last night, when we were all home and asleep and stuff.*
"Is- Are Jane and Marie okay?" Charlie asked.
"Hm? Oh... As well as can be expected, I suppose," Darla said
absently before sipping at her Coke. "I talked to Diana," she said
again. "She said nothing's happened at home."
Tucker had decided that it was entirely worth it to change clothes,
again, and see what he could do to mask his profile, in case he had to
bail. He was somewhat committed to trying to work this contract out
with Darla-he-thought-that's-what-her-name-was Janesdottir, but Mike
kept speaking in his head, telling him not to get so enraptured with
the plan that he'd fail to change or dump the plan if that became
necessary.
He'd decided that it would be worth it to wear the social work gear
openly; if he needed some of it because of treachery, he'd need it
RIGHTTHEFUCKNOW, and he had NOT been wearing it anywhere public before
this. If he needed to run, it would be best if he could spend the two
minutes or so necessary to re-Veritech everything into the Civilian
duffle-bag mode, but it'd be best if he had a couple of minutes to spare
anyway. And until he did, he might need some of the gear quickly.
He'd tied up his hair with a dograg, leaving the tail hanging down
the back like hair, and changed into the faded black they preferred when
doing social work at night. *Think that's it...*
He felt himself up one last time, making sure he didn't have any
knives showing, before hoisting his backpack up on his body. The sodas
made it extraordinarily heavy, he thought with a suppressed groan, but
he'd hauled worse for miles.
He pulled the black beret out of the 'purse' gas mask carrier he'd
bought at the surplus shop, then put the beret in his teeth before
making sure the bag was secure and things wouldn't fall out of it if he
had to run. *Yep.*
*Beret up!* He pulled the beret on, adjusted the tail on the beret
to the back point of his skull, made sure it was level, and pulled it
taut and sharp with the right hand pulling the right side down towards
his ear and the left hand on the top near the badge.
*Dassit,* he decided. *Shields up! Lock S-foils into attack
position!* He unlocked the stall door, flushed one last time with a
back kick, and exited the girls' room, actively not paying attention to
the chitters of the mallrats.
*Whoa! When did she go into the army?* Trish wondered as she shook
her head to indicate she hadn't seen any cops or suits talk with the
girls at the table, and watched Valerie go past.
Pauline asked.
Trish signed back.
Trish argued, feeling hurt because she
was wondering how SHE could look like that, so cool and competent.
Though maybe without having to carry all that stuff.
Pauline signed back. Valerie did look kind
of stupid like that, and she was attracting attention. *Why is she
doing that NOW? She wasn't earlier...*
*Could that be her?* Charlie wondered. *That can't be her. No,
it's her face... Isn't it?* And she was heading towards Darla and
Charlie's table, though not directly.
Darla was still looking the other way, and when she turned to look
at Charlie again, he stopped looking at probably-Valerie and looked at
Darla instead.
"I think we've wasted enough time on this," Darla stated, clearly
still angry.
"Well, can we just wait a few more minutes?" Charlie begged,
thinking it would only be a few more seconds. "Maybe she's nervous."
"She ought to be nervous!" Darla spat.
*About what?* Tucker wanted to know, and slowed down. Charlene
glanced at him and he shook his head, and she took the hint and looked
back at Darla-he-thought-that's-what-her-name-was.
"That... that... Uhhhh!" the other girl said, and Tucker was
somewhat reassured. *At least she doesn't seem to have something in
mind. Otherwise she'd be gloating.* She also didn't seem to have a
mirror or camera up to watch her back.
He noted the possibility of slamming a knife into her kidney, or
grabbing her head, pulling her upright, and slitting her throat.
*Right. But not now.*
Tapping into George, Tucker came up to the table, slid his pack off
his left shoulder and dropped himself into a seat between the two girls
and his pack on Charlene's side, and said in Brooklynese "Hey howyadoon
ladies?"
Darryl flinched so hard he almost dropped the Styrofoam cup.
"You new in town? I ain't seen you befo'," the person said while
looking and grinning at both him and Charlene.
He - although Darryl wasn't entirely sure WHAT gender this person
was - had hidden his hair, and Darryl wasn't sure if he was wearing
makeup or not, which was a sign of very proficient makeup use. His face
was feminine enough; more feminine than usual for one of Jane's
students, and attractive enough, although not really beautiful, even
with the medium blue eyes. He was wearing a black T-shirt and black
cargo pants, with an astonishing array of black and green pouches draped
over his body and looking rather Desert Stormy (except black and green
instead of tan and sometimes green), and a black beret with a gray patch
sporting two black vertical bars with silver-
*Are those computer chips?*
"'Cause two good-lookin' kids like youse shouldn't be alone in the
strange part'a town, knowhatImean?"
"Excuse me," Darryl said in the frostiest imitation of Jane he
could manage. "Do I know you?"
The accent disappeared as the person countered, "Are you Darla
Jane's daughter?"
"Who ARE you?"
"Darla," Charlene said, gently but reprovingly. Darryl looked at
her, but she was looking at whoever-it-was-probably-Valerie.
THAT person looked at HIM, and nodded twice. "Are you able to
negotiate?"
"I don't see that we have anything to negotiate," Darryl snarled.
"You-"
"Then there's no point in me being here, is there?"
"Darla!" Charlene hissed. "Do you WANT her to leave?"
"So do you want to talk? Or not?" Valerie asked Darryl.
Darryl REALLY had to think about it, because his first impulse was
to tell her to eat shit and die.
But Valerie's running away had really hurt Jane, and all of them
could imagine - couldn't stop imagining - what sort of harm Valerie
could do to all of them, and potentially all the students Jane had ever
helped.
But, although Valerie looked like she was ready for war, she was
offering to talk.
"Alright, we can negotiate," Darryl agreed. "I'm not agreeing to
anything beyond that."
"Good," Tucker said as he stood up. "Stand up."
Charlene stood up uncertainly, but a glare at Darla got her up too.
"Up against the wall," Tucker said as he pointed towards a spot
which looked like it offered some concealment from the mallrats.
"What are you doing?"
"Search for wires," Tucker said, as he put a hand flat on her back
and pushed insistently towards the wall. "Move!"
Darla did a one-eighty and snapped, "Are you insane?"
"The question is," Tucker said, "am I insane enough?"
"Wh-"
"Stop!" Tucker hissed, and for a wonder, she did. "Fool me once,
shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. I'm going to treat you
exactly as if you were dangerous people who could hurt me badly.
Because, you are."
*Maybe I shouldn't have said that,* Tucker realized, a little late.
But Charlene went towards the wall, and eventually Darla got tired
of glaring at him, and turned and stomped towards it.
"Okay, put your hands on the wall, like you were doing push-ups,
and move your feet back." Darla didn't.
"Come ON, Darla," he snapped, suddenly tired of the whole business.
She slowly moved into something approximating the right position,
though Tucker could almost see the steam coming out of her ears, so
Tucker hooked his foot around the front of her ankle and pulled her foot
out, then the other one. "Stay JUST like that," Tucker ordered. "If
you move, I WILL assume you're trying to kill me, and I'll do you
first."
Darryl, who was managing to keep his calm by the skin of his teeth,
was startled by what Valerie had said and the near-manhandling she was
doing, and so didn't think to object - or not the right way - until
hands started touching his head.
"What the h-"
"Shut UP!" Valerie snarled. "Charlene, are you wired?" The hands
kept moving over Darryl, pressing firmly against him as they ran around
his shoulders, into his armpits.
Charlene asked, "What?"
The hands moved to his breasts and Darryl almost turned around to
slap Valerie before he realized he was so off-balance he couldn't turn
without falling. And, he realized, those hands weren't concentrating on
his breasts so much as they were concentrating on his cleavage.
"Wired- Do you have a transmitter, locator beacon, anything taped
to your body or in your underwear?"
"No?"
The hands moved down and hit his waist. "Do you all wear corsets?
What IS it with that?" Valerie complained, even as the hands kept
moving.
*Oh, shit, she's gonna reach-*
And before Darryl could think what to do, the hands did reach into
and around his crotch, but while one errant move made him sick to his
stomach, Valerie didn't say anything, like, "Is that a dick in there?"
and her hands kept moving, strangely impersonal as they circled his
buttocks and went down the inside of his thighs.
*How could she have missed THAT?* he wondered.
"I don't think she is either," Charlene mentioned.
"Need to check the purses next," Valerie stated. She then grabbed
Darryl around the waist and said, "Stand back up," as she pulled
backwards and helped Darryl back to vertical.
When Darryl turned around, though, Valerie was about four feet
away, and grinning. "Sit down," she ordered.
"Are you going to search me?" Charlene asked.
"YOU I trust," Valerie stated, then looked at Darryl again and
pointed at the table. "You, I don't. Sit down and spill your purse."
Tucker kept an eye on Darla as well as the surroundings as he
checked both girls' purses and contents. Darla's lipsticks - four of
them - had a lot of scratches, but they seemed to be the sort that
happened in months of normal use, rather than the kind you'd get by
pulling one apart and sticking a transmitter in it. The purses came in
for a fondle, but aside from some metal framing in odd places - odd to
Tucker at least, who hadn't seriously considered what would be involved
in purse engineering - in Charlene's, they didn't have anything
suspicious. And the framing didn't have bulges in weird places, or
wires he could detect.
*Oh, shit,* he realized, *I forgot to ask about sharps or needles.
Well, too late now...*
When he finished, Darla looked like she was holding on to her
temper with both hands. "Alright, I'll assume you're clean for now,"
Tucker said to her.
"I don't understand why you're going through all this," Darla said,
in a snotty tone he was quite familiar with. Though Susan hadn't
usually done as much to deserve the full treatment as Jane or her
designated representative(s) had.
"Your peoples' track record has been very poor," Tucker said. "I
came in trusting you, your Jane t-"
"My mother."
*Figures.* "You and your family have behaved in ways that would
get you jailed, and with callous disregard for safety and sanity. I-"
"Like what?" Darla challenged.
"Locking me in the bedroom at night is a fire hazard. There is no
escape route in case of fire. There were no smoke detectors, there were
no alarms, and those doors would NOT unlock in case of an emergency."
Darla, as Tucker had hoped, shut the hell up.
"The United States does not allow such things to be done to felony
offenders. Even traitors and assassins get better treatment than what I
got in a week at your mother's." It hurt trying to keep the hate in; it
made his stomach hurt.
"Now," he kept going, "I am, in theory, POSSIBLY willing to come
back to Jane's, if she- YOU," he said to Darla, "will guarantee that I
will be treated in a civilized fashion."
"Like what?" Darla asked, and she sounded calmer, which didn't make
Tucker happy; he was way better at making people too angry to think and
then goading them into starting the fight.
*But you can't negotiate with people that're screamingly angry.
Damnit.*
Tucker said, "I want to be treated like a free citizen of the
United States, not a Soviet political prisoner." He couldn't mention
Nazis since that was an instant forfeit of any argument; luckily, in one
very tiny sense, the Soviet Union had been worse unless you were Jewish.
"I don't want to have to worry all the time about whether I'm going to
be sold to some Saudi oil prince or a Thai brothel. I need to be able
to sleep at night, which I haven't been able to do. I-"
"You weren't sleeping?" Charlene asked.
"I got..." Tucker calculated. "About twelve hours of sleep in
Jane's house. Since Sunday." He added, "And that includes the two
hours or so I was drugged out when someone poisoned the food on Sunday,"
just to make Darla aware that he HAD figured that part out.
"You only got two hours of sleep a night?" Darla confirmed. Tucker
noticed that she sounded much less angry than she had ten seconds ago.
Instead of answering, which he might have done if he was in a
normal conversation which he was not, Tucker said, "I got almost that
much in the two days since I left." Before someone could go off onto a
tangent, he said, "I have a contract. You may read it and suggest
amendments, and when you sign it - BINDING JANE TO THOSE TERMS AND
CONDITIONS," he emphasized, and was glad he'd found that 'terms and
conditions' bit in the contracts section of source material, "then we'll
all get to go back to Jane's house."
Pause.
Darla didn't seem angry at all, Tucker noticed; she seemed stunned.
*C'mon, roll your IQ... once, twice, THREE times- Jeez, is she REALLY
that stupid or does she have cursed dice?*
"Let me see the contract," she finally said.
Tucker pulled out his laptop, opened it, set the program so it
wouldn't let Darla quit, and put it in front of her.
"Where did you get a laptop?" she gasped.
"Same place I got the rest of my stuff," Tucker lied. "Or did you
people really think I would just go somewhere with people I'd never met,
never knew, never even HEARD about, just on their say-so?"
***
Kensington website
http://www.tragsnart.co.uk/kenshub/kensington/kensington.htm
***
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+ @>--,--'----- Ellen Hayes o===[-------- __ vicki .sig +
-=[1990]=- \/ virus 12.2
+ http://www.barkingduck.net/ehayes PGP key: EFC9 5D55 (1996) +
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